Meet the Beauchene's
by DonJuana19
Summary: Takes place BEFORE "Trials and Tribulations"; A few weeks after the proposal. Enjolras is intent on receiving Lynette's mother's blessing; so Lynette reluctantly agrees to return to her former, taciturn home to visit her family. But will things go as smoothly as planned? Or will Lynette Beauchene be forced to revisit her discordant past?
1. Chapter 1

**E/DS 2: Meet the Beauchene's**** Takes place BEFORE "Trials and Tribulations"; A few weeks after the proposal. Enjolras is intent on receiving Lynette's mother's blessing; so Lynette reluctantly agrees to return to her former, taciturn home to visit her family. But will things go as smoothly as planned? Or will Lynette Beauchene be forced to revisit her discordant past?**

"Netta; what's your last name?" Enjolras abruptly asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them for much of the afternoon. They had both been sitting quietly for a few hours—Lynette reading a recently published book that Enjolras had recommended to her; '_The Red and the Black'_,and Enjolras _pretending_ to read one of his old texts whilst frequently glancing up at the lovely woman sitting in the window. She had been living with him for several weeks, and there were more than just a few moments when he found himself struggling to believe it after all that had happened.

Lynette looked up from her book, staring at him quizzically. "Why does it matter? Soon it will be yours." she replied, smiling dazzlingly at him.

"I know… but I feel as if I'm missing a part of you not knowing it. What kind of husband doesn't know his wife's maiden name?" he told her, returning her infectious smile.

"And yet you are not _yet_ my husband." she retorted, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"You know what I mean."

She sighed, closing the book in her hands and setting it aside. "Beauchene," she finally responded. "My full name is Lynette Alaina Beauchene."

"Alaina… meaning "little rock" or bright and shining, correct? More than suitable." he told her compassionately. She beamed, then put the book in her hands on the table beside her before getting up and walking over to where he sat; leaning down and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "You're too kind, Blondinette."

"I am rarely kind… only truthful." he murmured in reply; watching her intently as she pulled away.

"Oh really? I beg to differ. I think you are one of the kindest men I've ever met." she retorted; eyes twinkling. She then turned and sauntered over to the shelf to pull another manuscript; and another sudden thought struck Enjolras. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Does your… does your family know about any of the things that have happened to you these past few weeks?"

She laughed short and cold; but her face held no amusement. "No. It's not like I exactly bother telling them. Not to mention they wouldn't give a whit if I _did _mention it." she said bitterly.

"The revolution? Your moving in with me? Nothing?" Enjolras asked in disbelief.

"No; and I'm glad of it. Such large, imperative events in my life would act as nothing but fuel to their scorn." she snapped.

"But… shouldn't they at least know that you're safe? They are your blood, after all." he pressed cautiously; beginning to sense that this was a losing battle.

Another acidic laugh. "They are no more my 'blood' than I am a royalist! Why in the world would they care whether I was dead in an alleyway somewhere or happily thriving?"

Her tone was growing sharper and sharper by the second; and Enjolras could hear that standoffish, warning ring to it. A ring telling him he better back off the subject before he pushed her over the edge.

"Happily thriving, eh?" he teased her; trying to disclose his submission with his eyes. She took the enticement; her own eyes twinkling as she turned back to him with her hand on her hip. "Have I ever said otherwise?" she inquired.

"No; but neither have you described it so eloquently before." he fired back mischievously.

"Hm… that's funny… I thought that such things needn't be said when 'I love you' is a perfect substitute." she retorted, raising an eyebrow jestingly at him.

"Indeed… but _thriving_? I am the cause of your _thriving _happiness?" he wondered temptingly. She laughed—all traces of her preceding terseness gone—and crossed back over to him; hitting him lightly with the book in her hand. "When did you get so cocky? Of _course_ you're the cause of my thriving happiness. You… and your gloriously extensive collection of books." she taunted merrily.

"Aha! Is _that_ why you agreed to live with me then?" he asked her; faking a hurt expression. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly; catching his feign. "Well it certainly didn't hurt once I got here, but have you so soon forgotten that I knew next to nothing about your home life when I agreed?"

"True. Oh, good. Then it _must_ have been me that persuaded you towards this option." he flashed a playful grin at her.

"My; self-satisfied, are we?" she asked with a chuckle before leaning in to press her lips to his. He instantly reached up and tangled his fingers in her coffee colored hair; anchoring her to him as he began to pull her closer. But this time—instead of pulling her back down into the chair to sit on his lap—she took ahold of his cravat and tugged him up out of his seated position. The action sent his breath hastening; but as the kiss heightened, he found that his mind did not go completely blank in the passion of the moment as it usually did. Instead he found himself as lost in thought as he was in the kiss.

He couldn't help pondering what had just been said about her family; for she seemed to have disregarded it by now, but he hadn't. From what she'd said, they had no idea what Lynette Alaina Beauchene had gone through these past few months; no idea that she was about to be married. The notion irked him immensely, and he knew not why. From the way she'd said they'd treated her; why _should _they be informed of her upcoming wedding? Why _should _she risk their having any objections to either he or her new life?

'_And yet… haven't they a right to know? Wouldn't her mother be—if nothing else—_curious _about where her daughter had gotten off to after all this time?' _He couldn't help thinking. He just couldn't wrap his head around going and getting married without one's family hearing of it at _some _point. And that was what Lynette seemed to be counting on; her family never hearing of her impending union… or even another word from her at _all_. How could she not speculate such things? How could she not want to at least _try _for a family blessing?

'_And yet you have not even told your own parents…'_ some part of him whispered.

'_But it's not as if I'm not planning to! I'll write them soon enough!' _another argued.

'_Oh; 'soon enough', will you? Just listen to yourself, putting it off!' _

He could hardly be attempting to understand Lynette's reasoning behind her complete isolation from her family; not when his own situation was just as complicated. And as soon as this epiphany came to mind, he forced himself to surrender all thoughts but those of the lovely woman so perfectly pressed up against him.

And yet that irritating, pervasive thought of '…_mother's blessing?' _remained.

**A/N:**** Here's the first chapter, folks! Do hope you like it. :)**

**This one turned out a lot shorter than Trials, but it's just as equally important. But that also means I'll be finishing it faster, which means I'll have to get a move on the next one… Mon dieu, this DS/E system is a vicious cycle! **

**A vicious cycle that I love every minute of. ;) **

**R&R everyone; perhaps your kind words will urge Lynette or Enjolras into making a decision? ~DonJuana**


	2. Chapter 2

~o~_Later that night_~o~

"Enjolras? Are you coming to bed?" he heard Lynette call from behind him. He smiled, putting down his pen to answer, "Yes, in just a moment. I must finish editing this old piece of mine; I can't _stand _looking at it in its rough draft state a second longer."

"Can't you just finish it in the morning?" she pouted in feigned exasperation.

"No, I'm nearly done and am intent on culminating the task since I am so close," he chuckled in response.

"Oh, fine. You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" she teased.

"So I've been told. Go on to bed; I'll be there in a little bit," he turned to smile softly at her. She returned the tender expression, ducking through the doorframe and only turning back to say, "Alright. But don't keep me waiting _too _long."

"You needn't wait up for me, you know," he shouted after her.

"But nevertheless I will!" she laughed merrily.

He couldn't help but beam at the cheerful, sweet sound; and with the newfound spur of her anticipating him in the other room, he finished his proofreading in no time. And as soon as he had, he scurried into the bathroom to change before making his way into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him. She had lain down and shut her eyes in his absence; but they immediately flickered open at the sound of the door. She began to sit up, but he was quick to stop her. "Do not bother yourself with rising when you are only going to sink back down into the bed directly after," he told her sensibly. She simply nodded with a small smile in response; and he could tell by her drooping eyelids that she was extremely tired. So, he said not a word more—refusing to let her deny herself of any more sleep because of him a second longer—before putting out the light and climbing into the bed. As soon as he'd lain down next to her, he wrapped his arms around her limber body; drawing a blissful sigh from her lips as a result. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind of all but her warm form and his fast growing fatigue; but found that the thought that had been plaguing his mind all day would _still_ not leave him in peace. And as soon as he realized that it was still there—silently clouding his mind with its unstinting existence—he knew he could not bear holding back any longer.

"Netta; I want to meet your family," he said quietly but steadily into her hair.

"Hm?" she mumbled; obviously only half aware of what had just been said. He took a deep breath, straightened, and propped himself up on his elbow before more surely reiterating, "I want to meet your family."

_That_ woke her up. "M—meet my _family_?" she exclaimed; snapping up to face him with her eyebrows arched in disbelief.

"Yes. Soon. Before we are married."

"Surely you jest. You _are _joking, aren't you?" she sputtered; utterly flabbergasted.

"Not in the least. It doesn't feel right that they don't know where you are or who you're with. _Especially _when you are about to be lawfully declared as my wife," he smiled enticingly at her in an attempt to ease the tension. He met no avail.

"Well perhaps it isn't; but that's just life. And this one with you is _mine_; so I can do whatever the hell I want with it—even if that includes isolating myself from my family," she responded; temper visibly flaring as her resentment bubbled to the surface.

"And I don't deny that. In fact; I find myself feeling nothing but grateful that one shared with me was the life you chose. But still, I cannot help feeling that—"

"Where did this even come from? I thought you couldn't care less about my relatives," she inquired in riled bewilderment.

"Well, our conversation from earlier today. It got me thinking… and I've decided that I want your mother's blessing to marry you. I know it's normally the father a man asks, but since yours is no longer with us—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Do you have any idea how large of a jump you just made? First you are speaking of meeting my family—which is nearly implausible in of itself—and now you talk of getting my mother's _blessing_ as well?" she asked; mouth slightly agape—as she was now too stunned to even be angry.

"Well it is the traditional and respectful thing to do," he pointed out. She snorted caustically. "Traditional? Respectful? When has anything we've ever done been traditional? When did the dear Beauchene bloodline become worthy of respect?"

"I know it must be difficult for you to fathom—going back there after being gone so long—but I really feel that it would be the right th—"

"You're right; I can't fathom it! Have you forgotten _why _I've stayed away so long in the first place?" she expressed despairingly. He averted his eyes for but a moment. "No; I have not disregarded the issue of your aunt. But—"

"No, not just my aunt! She's the worst of them, yes; but my father is dead, my mother has not the backbone to stand up for her own children, my sister's gone, my eldest brother's been jailed for years, and all I have left is my little brother Henry!" she burst out before slumping back onto the pillow; fingers massaging her temples. He sighed as he watched her react so stressfully; tentatively reaching forward to stroke her cheek. "And I know how abstruse this must seem. But consider your brother, Lynette; don't you think he of all people would want to know what's become of you? That you are soon to become another man's wife?" he asked her hopefully; desperately trying to make her see his point. She exhaled luridly in defeat, looking up at him. "I suppose. But I could always invite him _here _to solve that problem; I don't see why it should take a visit home instead," she countered.

"Ah; but that is not all I wanted to accomplish, was it?" he reminded her with a half smile. She scowled in response. "I _also _don't see why the woman who has hardly been a parental figure to me these past few years should define whether or not you become my husband."

"But she wouldn't be defining it. We would ask, and if for whatever reason she rejected the proposal; we would go on with the wedding anyway. I'm much too selfish to let you go _that_ easy," he teased.

She was silent; staring down at the sheets beneath her. The smile fell from his face, and he made one final attempt to convince her. "Please, Netta? It would ease my conscience if I at least met her. And besides; what have you to lose? Your aunt will not get one scathing comment out if I have anything to do with it," he pleaded. She huffed; looking up and locking eyes with him again. "Fine. We'll go tomorrow. But we're going, asking for the blessing, and leaving. Understood? I'm not one to linger when Virginie could be prowling."

**A/N:**** ERMAGAWD SHE CAVED! **

**Ahem… I mean… looks like Enj gets to meet her family after all. How… nice? I guess we'll just have to see. ;) Surely Lynette will be happy to see her brother again… but her aunt? Her mother? Is this a foreshadowing? **

**R&R, loves… I love hearing from you and listening to your ideas and theories for these plotlines. It means a lot to me AND Enjolras! :D ~DonJuana**


	3. Chapter 3

"Lynette; where is my—"

"Cravat or good waistcoat?"

"Waistcoat."

"Third drawer from the bottom."

A smile stretched across his face as reached down to open the drawer of interest; for though it had only been a few weeks, they had grown so accustomed to each other—she already knew the things he often misplaced and the exact places they would be found.

"Enjolras? What about my bag?" she called questioningly.

"It should be where it always is," he chuckled amusedly.

"No it's not. I checked already," she retorted in bemusement.

"Well, did you move it?"

"Not that I recall. Did you?"

"No, the last time I saw it was—wait; I found it," he said abruptly; eyes falling upon the trusty, threadbare bag resting rather carelessly against one of the legs of the bed. He picked it up with one hand—his other still occupied with the buttoning of his waistcoat—and turned to exit the bedroom; tossing it into her waiting arms. "There you are," he declared contently.

"Much obliged, Blondinette," she giggled in response. It was a perfectly normal exchange; two leaders so in sync with each other that they worked together harmoniously as naturally as breathing.

She turned back towards the door to put on her coat, and he couldn't help sighing as he reached for his own. Reason had returned to his burdened his mind as they'd begun readying themselves this morning; and now he wasn't as sure about showing up unannounced at the home of his fiancé as he had been. "Are you sure we shouldn't write ahead to let them know of our plans to visit; wait a few days to ensure they are prepared for visitors?" he inquired; stating his thoughts aloud. She rolled her eyes. "Absolutely not. If you want me to go, we go today. Delaying would only give me the chance to talk myself out of it. Besides; writing ahead would help them prepare for nothing but what jives to use against me," she finished, face darkening. He said nothing; just finished his final provisions before entwining his arm with hers and heading out the garret door. They made their way down to the street in silence; but once there Enjolras quickly broke it, saying, "So; is there anything I need to know before I finally meet the Beauchene's?"

She was quiet for a moment; mulling it all over. But then a wry smile sprung to life. "Well, besides the basic warnings that I've already cautioned you of; just about its members, I suppose," she answered with a slight shrug. He grinned encouragingly down at her as if to say, '_Go on, then._'

"Well, let's start from the very beginning then, shall we? My father was a successful arkwright artisan—a true master of his trade—while my mother and her 'dear' sister were orphaned at a young age and raised in a convent. They met when my mother was nineteen and my father twenty-five while my mother was out on an errand for the sisters. From then on they met in secret as often as they could; for it would be extremely frowned upon should a convent girl be discovered to be spending time with a man _unsupervised_. Oh, God forbid!" she exclaimed dramatically; and Enjolras couldn't suppress a hearty laugh as he pondered what would be thought of _he and Lynette _if just seeing a man unsupervised was considered such a terrible sin.

"And by the time she was twenty-two, she had taken Virginie and left the convent to be married to him. Their first child was my brother Martaín—who is coming up on his thirtieth birthday as he withers away in prison—,the next my sister Odela—twenty-five and warming men's beds to support herself—,then me, and lastly my brother Henry. Just turned twenty-one, ex-student, and last remaining man of the house."

"Ah yes. Because your father…"

"Oh, you remembered! Hung when I was no older than a toddler," she said with a slightly harsh satire. Enjolras rested his cheek against the top of her head for a brief moment as a solacing act; then continued, "How is it your eldest brother has earned so much time in prison for but speaking out of terms?"

"Did I mention he resisted arrest and beat down three out of the four officers sent to restrain him?"

"Oh. No; no you didn't."

"Well, that's what happened. Remember it like it was yesterday— though it's been about eight years now. He's also tried to escape one too many times."

"Oh."

"Ha! That's all I could say on the matter at first, too."

A long period of silence blossomed between them; and Enjolras took the time to ponder what she'd said. She'd spoken so punitively about all of her relatives… and yet there was another twinge of something in her tone when she mentioned her siblings… her father. There was a pained longing; and though he could tell that she was using brusqueness to try to hide that, it was present and it was proof that she obviously cherished her family more than she cared to admit. She was trying to isolate these feelings—to save herself the pain of their diminishment—but they were there. She could not hide them completely. Or, at least, not from him.

"I certainly hope my being away for so long hasn't dulled my defenses against my aunt," she suddenly commented with a sardonic expression.

"Oh, come now," he shook his head.

"I'm serious! It is something you can get unaccustomed to if you do not practice it every now and then; just like anything else." she rejoined indignantly.

"Netta, she will not _touch _you… even if only in words. I will jump to your defense with the swiftness of a buck, so you mustn't worry yourself over these aggrieved thoughts," he said comfortingly as he looped his arm around her waist.

She sighed and leaned into him, softly replying, "And I understand and appreciate that. But until you've met her, you will never know how powerful and hurtful words can be."

The aching twinge in her tone made him clench his teeth in ire; for anything that made her speak with a voice so pain-laden deserved whatever wrath fell upon them. This was the first time she'd let anything but anger and bitterness show when speaking of her relations since their walk in the park on the first day of the revolution.

"They will not touch you. Not while I'm around," he repeated tensely; unable to think of anything else to say. His unyielding confirmation seemed to soothe her, though; as she stopped to crane up and kiss his cheek. "Thank you. Just knowing that you will be by my side makes this trip that much easier."

"You're more than welcome. It is my duty as your fiancé, no?" he winked at her; and he relished in the bright, genuine smile she returned it with. "So it would seem. And apparently to ask my mother for her blessing, as well."

"Well you've already agreed to going; so you can't go back on your word now!" Enjolras reminded her childishly.

"I know, I know. I was just going to say not to get your hopes up too hi—" she began, but then she tripped over something in the road and went skidding to her knees; the contents of her bag scattering all over the cobblestone. "Merde," she hissed as she watched her notebook, pen, and gloves go sliding a few feet away. Enjolras bit back a chuckle and began to reach down to help her, but she stopped him. "It's alright, I'm fine. I can get them."

"And right when your knees had healed, too…" he joked in reminiscence of their battle wounds.

"Florence would kill me…" she stated with a laugh. She then began picking up the various contents of her pack, and before Enjolras could assist her despite her assurance; he felt a small hand on his arm.

"Hey there, handsome; wanna give a poor girl a good time?" a woman's high, purring voice inquired flirtatiously. Enjolras let out an exhale of annoyance; attempting to shake her off. He was always surprised these ladies of the night could find the impudence to show their faces in the light of the sun. "No thank you. Now, off with you."

"Come now, darlin'; what better to warm this autumn chill than the heat of a little passion?" she continued with a grin; only breaking her enticing stare once to glance down at an area no young lady should be caught eyeing. Enjolras took that moment to look down at Lynette for a moment and—though he couldn't see her face— perceived that she was trembling with rage. A rage that he was sure he now mirrored. Could this woman really have the audacity to approach him in the broad daylight whilst he was walking with another girl?

"You _dare _be so damn desperate that you ask _during the day_?" he growled in disgust. She shrugged, obviously impervious to his spiteful words. "Girl's gotta eat."

"Alright; listen here, you putain! You better—" Lynette began with an infuriated snarl; but it took but a moment more for the anger to completely dissipate from her face as the growl turned to a gasp. "Odie?" she whispered; eyes widening to the size of the moon as she stared at the prostitute. Whom was currently staring back with an expression just as—if not more—shocked. "L—L—Lynette?" she stammered waveringly; and Enjolras saw her quaking in her shoes as if the temperature had just dropped a hundred degrees.

**A/N:**** CLIFF HANGERRRR! **

**Sorry guys… I had to do it. This chapter would have been WAY too lengthy if I cut it off where I was originally planning to. And then this DS/E would end faster. And then I'd have to start posting the next one. And THEN I'd be in trouble because I'm WAY behind on that one. **

**But perhaps some reviews would change that with sparks of inspiration? Or at least to tell me who you think this "lovely lady" is? Even though I'm pretty sure the answer lies within this chapter… OHWELL. ACT SURPRISED. ~DonJuana**


	4. Chapter 4

"Odie… Oh my God…" Lynette murmured; voice cracking mid-statement as her eyes began to glitter.

"I'm sorry… you two are _acquainted _then?" Enjolras asked in bewildered disbelief. They didn't seem to hear him.

"Lynette… mon Dieu, n'avez-vous pas pitié? I vowed that I would never let you see me like this!" the grimy woman wailed, covering her face with her hands.

"Odela… I do not _care _what the world has forced upon you! You are still the same young woman you were when you left… you needn't feel ashamed standing here before me!" Lynette exclaimed, reaching forward and gently pulling the other girl's hands away from her face; taking them in her own.

As Lynette's response to the woman—Odela—'s moans played over in Enjolras's mind, he began to suspect how his amour knew her… though how they'd come to be reunited on this particular day was unbeknownst to him.

And—as if having directly heard his thoughts—Odela took that opportune moment to gaze into Lynette's eyes as a single tear went streaming down her face, reaching up and cupping her cheek. "Oh Lynette… my darling little sister… do you realize how beautiful you've grown up to be?"

"And you, Odie, are just as comely as I remember," Lynette whispered in reply, pulling her sister into a tight embrace. Odela snorted, shaking her head. "You needn't give me any of that, Netta; I look a wreck and I know it," she winked.

"Oh, that's not true. You look like a fine china doll, though well worn and slightly battered. But that does not mean you aren't still lovely," Lynette told her. Odela looked down at the street beneath her feet. "_Well worn _is right…" she mumbled; a sad expression washing over her face. Lynette's own smile faded when she caught sight of it, taking ahold of her older sister's shoulders. "Then why did you leave?" she said quietly; her face betraying the hurt dwelling in the words. Odela sighed quaveringly, bravely looking up into Lynette's eyes with the gaze of someone broken… someone who has been through far too much. "I didn't want to… God, it was the last thing I wanted. Leaving you and Henry… it was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. But I… I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be revered by all of Paris for my work on the stage… and I thought I was finally ready to leave home and live my dream. But every audition I went to—every theatre I visited—I was never good enough. Within a month my clothes were worn in, I was dead broke, and I was so starved that I thought my stomach might just shrivel up completely; and my auditions had not even earned a second _glance_. I'd expected to be a star by sundown, and instead I was being unstintingly tossed aside like a stray dog. And it wasn't long before I lived up to that treatment, either. One night, after an especially late audition, I was confronted in the shadows of the street by a bourgeois man who thought I was a whore. He just kept asking and asking to spend the night using me… and at first I resisted him; telling him that I was no more a slut than he was, but he convinced himself that I was simply playing hard to get to weasel more money out of him. And when I attempted to tell him that this was far from the case, he ignored me _again _and said, 'You're lucky you're the prettiest little harlot I've ever seen.' before offering me the largest amount of money I'd heard of anyone possessing on hand in _years_."

At this point, Odela looked away; obviously losing the valor needed to meet Lynette's eyes. "Please try to understand, I know there is no excuse for the lowness to which I stooped… but I hadn't eaten anything in over three days, and the price he'd presented was enough to feed me for _weeks_. So I went with him, did what I'd had to do, and subsequently salvaged each sou he'd given me for several weeks afterwards until the inevitable arrived; the spending of the very last one and the imminent return of my pennilessness. Now, ever since that night I've been utterly _repulsed _by myself… I absolutely _hated _myself for what I'd done. But somehow I still had the will to live… somehow I couldn't stand the thought of dying of deprivation in a gutter somewhere; even after completely debasing myself with the selling of my body. So, I reluctantly went out and began doing it regularly, figuring that if I was already going to hell, why not put off my arrival there as long as possible by finding the money to fill my belly every day? But oh, Netta… I can't _stand _the person I've become… after each "job"—when I'd be sitting alone and looking up at the scornful night sky—I'd see your face in my mind… Henry's… Mama's… I'd see your shame and disappointment… and I'd—I'd—" but the account was cut short by a wretched, gasping sob; Odela reaching up to cover her face with her hands again as she cried.

Enjolras looked over to see torrenting tears streaming down Lynette's full, tan cheeks as well; watching her sister with the strangest mix of emotions in her glittering eyes. She looked so aggrieved… so perturbed… he had to look away. Seeing her so dismayed was like a jab in the heart.

"Odela… you _must _know that we don't care what… profession… you've taken on; you are and always have been our _sister_… Mama's _daughter_… none of that has changed! It isn't your fault you had to go to extremes so you didn't starve," Lynette said weakly, gripping her older sister's hands with a fiercely devoted rigidity.

"Yes it is. I could have come home as soon as I realized that my dream as an actress was never going to be realized… but I was too stubborn. Too ashamed. Too prideful," Odela muttered, head bent low.

Lynette let out a rather pathetic laugh. "You know that's always run in the family, soeur. You should ask Enjolras here how _I _acted when he first met me."

Enjolras couldn't help but chuckle at her testimonial; and at the sound, Odela turned and stared at him as if just realizing he was still there. "Oh! He's with…" she began in bemused apprehension, but then turned to Lynette with a mischievous grin. "Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your handsome new beau, Netta?" she asked, bumping her playfully with her hip.

"I'd say you already _introduced yourself_, hm?" Lynette winked in jesting reply. Odela flushed deeply and looked down at her feet. "Thanks so much for your sensitivity, soeur," she mumbled, nearly inarticulately.

"Oh, come now Odie. I was only teasing," Lynette reassured with a light-hearted chuckle.

"And yet your reaction to her provocations was _most _enthralling, Netta," Enjolras piped up, wrapping his arms around her waist with a tantalizing grin. She giggled and leaned into him, saying, "I'm glad you think so. But I am sorry for shouting at you, Odela. I just—"

"Yes, yes; thought I was a whore trying to steal your man away from you. I understand," Odela cut her off; and though she put on a strained smile, Enjolras could hear a certain curtness to her voice. And when he caught her eye, she seemed… _sorrowful_ as she watched them. Her gaze looked as if she were aching… wishing for something she knew to be impossible. And it took mere seconds after this realization for Enjolras to break their stare and escape her heavy, pining eyes. The sight was like a tiny warning flag in his mind, and yet he knew not why. She was Lynette's sister—one of the few in her family that she actually _loved_—and yet she was looking upon them with a saddened and invidious expression?

But apparently Lynette hadn't seen the pain in her sister's eyes, because she simply chuckled and stated, "Yes… unfortunately so. But nevertheless, I apologize," before stepping forward to embrace her again. The hug was more rigid and awkward, Enjolras noted, but even so Odela smiled authentically and buried her tearstained face in Lynette's shoulder. "It's alright, peu d'amour. You're more than forgiven," she whispered. They spent a few silent moments just enjoying each other's company after so long a time spent apart, but then Lynette pulled away and smiled, saying, "Anyway… Odela; allow me to introduce my fiancé, Enjolras. Enjolras—in case you haven't already comprehended the obvious—this is my older sister Odela."

"A pleasure, Mademoiselle. It's very nice to finally make your acquaintance," Enjolras bowed his head politely. Odela reached out and shook his hand with a shy smile, then turned to Lynette with her eyes glittering comically. "It's wonderful to meet you, as well. My, Netta; I'm gone for but two years, and the next time I see you you're engaged to be married? Since when are interested in anything but the folly of politics and the freedom of the people?"

"Since I met a man as infatuated with these ideas as I was," Lynette laughed, taking Enjolras's hand and squeezing it.

"Ah… is that how you met, then?" Odela inquired with a smile as she glanced back and forth between them two.

"Yes. I joined a... a cause that he was involved in, and after a while we somehow went from co-captains to intended's," Lynette explained with a tiny blush. Enjolras chuckled and kissed her cheek, watching bemusedly out of the corner of his eye as Odela cast her gaze downward. "Somehow is right. It took quite a bit of pursuing on my part before I got her to agree to be mine."

"Certainly sounds like my sister," Odela laughed.

"Oh come on; I wasn't _that _difficult!" Lynette feigned a scowl. Enjolras laughed and spun her around once; and she let out a delighted shriek that quickly ended with a laugh before he began, "You are _always _difficult."

"I second that, Netta; you always have been one of the most headstrong women in Paris," Odela embellished; cocking an eyebrow—though Enjolras was sure he'd heard her voice falter feebly.

"Well, I cannot take all of the credit for that. Most of it was learned after years of dealing with Aunt—oh my God; Odela! You can come with us! Enjolras and I… we're going to see Mama and Henry! You can… you can come _home…_" Lynette said excitedly, taking her sister's hands once more. The playful smile on Odela's face disappeared instantly. "I… I don't think that's such a good idea, Lynette," she replied gravely, shaking her head. Lynette's animated grin fell slightly. "What are you talking about? You can finally return and never have to… to sell yourself again. Isn't that what you want?"

"No, I can't," Odela whispered; looking down despondently and shuffling her feet uncomfortably.

"Yes you can—"

"No, Lynette! It's… it's been hard enough facing you. Letting you see me in this lowly, worthless state… this state where I am no better than the common harlot," Odela choked, snapping her head up to look at Lynette with glistening eyes.

"Odela… don't _talk _like that! You are my older sister… the girl I looked up to my entire childhood… not to mention one of the most beautiful young women I know. You are _far _from worthless, and all of the aforementioned facts will never change!" Lynette practically begged; her own eyes welling up as she stared desperately back at her disheartened sibling.

"But _I _have changed. I now harbor such bitterness and apathy towards the world inside of me… and feelings like that obliterate and empty you, Lynette. Destroy every last bit of you until there's not one hint of the person you once were left. It's gotten to the point where I hardly care about anything anymore," Odela murmured, sucking in a gasping breath as fresh tears spilled out onto her cheeks. Lynette was silent for a moment as she took in her dictation. Her mouth hung open as unspoken words rested upon her parted lips; and the sentiments dancing through her eyes were countless and nearly unreadable as a result. But Enjolras tensed as he recognized a few: disappointment, horror, and even… betrayal. "Even us?" she whispered after a moment.

"No, of course not! You and Mama and Henry and Martaín… you mean everything to me! And that's _exactly _why I can't come home. I love you all too much to let you be disgraced by the presence of a girl leading such a sickeningly awful life," Odela whispered despairingly.

"Stop that! It wasn't your fault; you didn't choose the life that was thrown at you!" Lynette exclaimed; her voice rising like a child in anguish. Enjolras tried rubbing her arm to comfort her, but it was evident that she and Odela were the only ones in the world at the current moment.

"Yes, it was. I _could_ have chosen to find other means of earning money… but instead I chose the easy way out. And I'm—I'm _so_ sorry…" Odela sniffled harrowingly. The apology was too much for Lynette's self control, and she consequently began sobbing hysterically—just barely able to articulate her next response. "Odela… _please _come home… come with us…"

"No." Odela rejoined simply before starting to turn away. But Lynette grabbed her arm, jerking her back around to face her. "Odela, you're breaking my heart!" she cried quietly, her voice cracking midsentence. Odela shook her grip off, backing up a few steps and looking at her with an expression of such downright disbelief that you'd have thought Lynette had burned her. "What do _you _know of heartbreak? Lynette; you know not the _meaning _of that word. Do you know what it feels like to have your soulripped from your body by a complete stranger for a few measly sous _every single night_? Do you know what it's like to be picked up and treated like a ragdoll until they've decided that they're finished; then thrown aside like trash? And do you understand what it's like to be asked to face the dissatisfaction in your mother's eyes after going through all of that? _That _is heartbreak. And it is something you will never experience whilst you have your handsome, young, amiable fiancé and wonderful new life. As long as you have that, your heart will never be anything but happy and whole. _My _heart has been broken, Lynette. It has been shattered and crushed so many times that sometimes I doubt it's even beating anymore. And so _please _know, my sweet sister… how sorry I am… and that I love you _so _much… but I just… I _can't_," Odela whispered, turning her back completely on the couple. Lynette could only watch her with her mouth open in shock; one hand slightly extended as if still holding onto her fellow Beauchene girl's arm.

Enjolras was on the edge as he watched them; besieged by countless emotions of him own. He'd heard Lynette—experienced her devastation—and he wanted to hate Odela for it. For making his amour look so broken and helpless… so confused and deceived. But he found he couldn't; not when he looked into the elder sister's eyes and saw the desolation, agony, and plaintive regrets there after all of the horrors she'd suffered through. '_Sometimes I doubt it's even beating anymore…'_ she'd said. Perhaps that was why she was now walking away unsympathetically, leaving her little sister stunned and befuddled behind her.

As he thought all of this over, she turned back for a moment, catching his eye and holding it there. Hers were a dark, muddy brown; varying greatly from Lynette's striking blue-green. "You are a good man and your love for her is unmistakable. _Please _take care of her. Do what I have not the strength to do," she pleaded him; dark, tempestuous, derelict gaze seeming to burn into his very soul.

"You have my sincerest word, Mademoiselle Odela. Your words have rung true; I would do anything for your sister. Thank you for trusting her safety to me," Enjolras responded; keeping his eyes locked with hers as he reached down to firmly place his hands on Lynette's shoulders. Odela laughed—and the sound was weak but sincere. "You are so courteous, Monsieur. Do you know how long it has been since a man has called me 'Mademoiselle'?"

"For a strong, intelligent young woman like yourself; I'm sure it has been far too long," he replied with a gracious smile. Her face lit up with a wide, blushing grin of her own; but again he saw that same, pained sadness filling her eyes. "I can see why our Netta loves you, Monsieur Enjolras. You've got a good heart in you. And right now I need you to use that to take her away from here—away from me. I wish all of this could have happened in another time under different circumstances… but it didn't. And now it's time for me to go and leave you both to your contentment. And Lynette; let me just say before I go that _maybe_ I'll drop in every now and again… just so you all know I'm still alive… but other than that my fate has been sealed. I'm sorry," she finished before walking away.

Enjolras simply nodded and said not a word more, knowing that there was nothing else that really need be uttered. He could feel that she was lying to herself as she spoke of visiting… but he decided that was best kept to himself—as Lynette still seemed too bewildered to have perceived it. He slowly started walking forward once more, gently pulling her still dazed body along with him. "Wh—what does she mean her 'fate is sealed'? It doesn't _have _to be this way!" she mumbled after a moment.

"You heard her. She will visit," Enjolras stated, unsure of how else to ease her strain at the present time. But now he was the one lying to himself; as he was decently certain Odela was not coming back.

**A/N:**** I LOVE writing Enjolras as the protective type. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzily inside. X) And that seems to happen a lot in this DS/E… making ME a very happy author. **

***sigh* Anyone else feel really bad for Odela? She's not a bad girl… just horribly confused. Pretty common for this time period. And speaking of her, I wrote this chapter from her point of view as a little writing exercise. Should I release it now, or after I finish the main plot? Please shoot me a review to let me know. And maybe say how you liked this chapter while you're at it. ;) ~DonJuana**


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey there, handsome; wanna give a poor girl a good time?" I put my hand on my latest target's arm; speaking in that beguiling tone which I'd learned drove most men wild.

Yes, here I was again; trying to seduce a stranger on the streets as I had countless times before. The only difference between those others times and now was that I was daring to venture out during the day. Well, that and the fact that this man was actually _attractive_.

He had smooth, faultless skin and golden hair; his structure tall and robust. His eyes shone fervently and were the color of dark chocolate; and overall he was one of the most handsome men I'd come across in _weeks_.

Perhaps I'd actually _enjoy _myself this time around. Perhaps I'd be able to pretend that this man was my husband… and that it was our wedding night… and that I was a virgin…

I hated lying to myself, but I'd been doing it so often that it hardly registered with me anymore. Besides, this little white lie would simply be helping me get past the fact that this was just another 'job'.

"No thank you. Now, off with you." The man replied curtly; glaring at me. His eyes warned me silently; but I simply smiled in response, for I knew this wasn't over just yet. I suddenly wanted my little fantasy a bit more than I could bear; and the mere thought of that frightened me. "Come now, darlin'; what better to warm this autumn chill than the heat of a little passion?" I flirted shamelessly before glancing down at his "unmentionables". That was usually the final straw; the moment when I was thrown up against a wall as their self-control fled. But not this one. His pretty face simply darkened in anger. "You _dare _be so damn desperate that you ask _during the day_?" he growled at me.

I held back a scowl of my own as I perceived this. Did he realize that I never wanted _any _of this? Did he even try to guess _why _I was so "damn desperate"?

"Girl's got to eat." I shrugged to hide my sudden irritation. Just then, a woman snapped up from the ground, shouting, "Alright; listen here, you putain! You better—"

And before I could even think dryly to myself that I hadn't even seen her… that she was probably his wife… I realized that face was so recognizable that it could have been my own. And after seeing it, I felt the last of what little color I had left in my pale, malnourished cheeks flee in horror.

Because I was presently staring at my much beloved little sister.

"L—L—Lynette?" I sputtered; not entirely sure I was not just seeing things. Sweet Jesus, I was shaking. _Shaking_ as I stood here with one of my deepest dreads being realized.

"Odie… Oh my God…" Lynette whispered; and I heard her voice break as she stared back at me. I though the golden-haired, angel face said something then; but I couldn't hear what. Couldn't perceive his words when my conscious was screaming, "_Look at her face! She's ashamed! She's disgusted! You've lost the love of your only sister—" _

"Lynette… mon Dieu, n'avez-vous pas pitié? I vowed that I would never let you see me like this!" I moaned; covering my face with my hands. And it was true; as soon as I'd finished selling myself for the first time, I swore that I would never return home again. Never shame my family with my now sinful presence. Never have to look my sister in the eyes as the woman who had been broken to the point of no repair.

"Odela… I do not _care _what the world has forced upon you! You are still the same young woman you were when you left… you needn't feel ashamed standing here before me!" I heard Lynette exclaim quietly; and then I felt two soft, nimble hands gently pulling my hands away from my face. I looked up at her—with her soft, clean, perfect chocolate waves and enchantingly gorgeous eyes—and I instantly felt tears forming in my eyes. Her words of solace had sent a wave of relief coursing through my body; though I knew I should not feel in the least bit reassured. She had to say such things; she was my sister! And yet her words had always had the most captivating ring to them… one could do nothing _but _believe them.

"Oh Lynette… my darling baby sister… do you realize how beautiful you've grown up to be?" I muttered; reaching up and hesitantly cupping her cheek. She had always been the lovelier of the two of us; and I remember always feeling a twinge of envy as I watched men's eyes follow her down the street… they'd never see me when she was around. And in the two years I'd been gone, she'd grown even _more _breathtaking…

"And you, Odie, are just as comely as I remember." She murmured before pulling me into an embrace. I wrapped my arms around her instinctively; but I couldn't help snorting. Me, comely? The men who _used _me each night hardly thought so. "You needn't give me any of that, Netta; I look a wreck and I know it." I told her with a wink.

"Oh, that's not true. You look like a fine china doll, though well worn and slightly battered. But that does not mean you aren't still lovely." Lynette answered with a small smile. My own disappeared as I took her words to heart. That was one of my many curses, I suppose; reading into each situation far too much. Even as a child I had done such. "_Well worn _is right…" I mumbled as I looked down at my feet. _But someone who is tossed about every night is bound to be… _

Lynette's face fell, and she reached forward and took a firm grip on my shoulders. "Then why did you leave?" she asked; her voice laden with hurt. And that pain was like a nail in my heart. Not to mention the fact that she had just voiced the very question I'd been asking myself since the night I was robbed of my virtue. I sighed and dared myself to look her in the eyes; for she deserved _that_ at least. That and the explanation I was now going to so painfully give. "I didn't want to… God, it was the last thing I wanted. Leaving you and Henry… it was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. But I… I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be revered by all of Paris for my work on the stage… and I thought I was finally ready to leave home and live my dream. But every audition I went to—every theatre I visited—I was never good enough. Within a month my clothes were worn in, I was dead broke, and I was so starved that I thought my stomach might just shrivel up completely; and my auditions had not even earned a second _glance_. I'd expected to be a star by sundown, and instead I was being unstintingly tossed aside like a stray dog. And it wasn't long before I lived up to that treatment, either. One night, after an especially late audition, I was confronted in the shadows of the street by a bourgeois man who thought I was a whore. He just kept asking and asking to spend the night using me… and at first I resisted him; telling him that I was no more a slut than he was, but he convinced himself that I was simply playing hard to get to weasel more money out of him. And when I attempted to tell him that this was far from the case, he ignored me _again _and said, 'You're lucky you're the prettiest little harlot I've ever seen.' before offering me the largest amount of money I'd heard of anyone possessing on hand in _years_."

It was at this point that I looked away; my sudden boldness fleeing. For this was the point in my miserable tale that I had regretted from the second it had happened; the point that had made me cast myself off and disconnect all contact from those I loved most. "Please try to understand; I know there is no excuse for the lowness to which I stooped… but I hadn't eaten anything in over three days, and the price he'd presented was enough to feed me for _weeks_. So I went with him, did what I'd had to do, and subsequently salvaged each sou he'd given me for several weeks afterwards until the inevitable arrived; the spending of the very last one and the imminent return of my pennilessness. Now, ever since that night I've been utterly _repulsed _by myself… I absolutely _hated _myself for what I'd done. But somehow I still had the will to live… somehow I couldn't stand the thought of dying of deprivation in a gutter somewhere; even after completely debasing myself with the selling of my body. So, I reluctantly went out and began doing it regularly; figuring that if I was already going to hell, why not put off my arrival there as long as possible by finding the money to fill my belly every day? But oh, Netta… I can't _stand _the person I've become… after each "job"—when I'd be sitting alone and looking up at the mocking night sky—I'd see your face in my mind… Henry's… Mama's… I'd see your shame and disappointment… and I'd—I'd—"

And now the tears came. All of the emotions I'd tried to hard to push to the back of my mind came bursting forward; and I shook violently with the power of the deluge. I hated myself! I was a despicable human being! I was a damn awful sister and daughter—

""Odela… you _must _know that we don't care what… profession… you've taken on; you are and always have been our _sister_… Mama's _daughter_… none of that has changed! It isn't your fault you had to go to extremes so you didn't starve." Lynette said softly; taking a firm grip on my hands. I shook my tear-stained head at her; absolutely _awed _by her heart. She was not ostracizing me; she was comforting me. Telling me she still loved me. Even though I was a prostitute and no longer the strong girl she'd once known.

"Yes it is. I could have come home as soon as I realized that my dream as an actress was never going to be realized… but I was too stubborn. Too ashamed. Too prideful." I muttered with my head bent low. And it was true. I was more than capable of just crawling back home after my eminent failure… but I chose not to. So all of this was just basically my own damn fault.

Lynette laughed; but the sound was weak and sad. "You know that's always run in the family, soeur. You should ask Enjolras here how _I _acted when he first met me."

That's when I heard a low chuckle; and looked up to see the blonde man standing next to us. I had to fight to keep my eyebrows from shooting up in surprise; I hadn't even known he was still here! And if he was… and he was walking with Lynette…

Looks like my sister had made good for herself. "Oh! He's with…" I began in perplexity; but that soon faded into a smirk. "Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your handsome new beau, Netta?" I asked teasingly whilst bumping her with my hip. And handsome he was… hadn't I been dying to pretend he was my groom but a few minutes earlier?

"I'd say you already _introduced yourself_, hm?" Lynette winked at me; her tone just as jesting. I felt a great heat rise to my cheeks as a stole a quick glance at angel-face; then dropped my gaze to the cobblestone when I saw him chuckling. "Thanks so much for your sensitivity, soeur." I muttered; almost… _angry _for a minute. Why had she decided to embarrass me further in front of a man I didn't even know? But I forced those thoughts back; for I knew she meant it in only the best way.

"Oh, come now Odie. I was only teasing." Lynette chuckled; looking at me with warm, loving eyes.

"And yet your reaction to her provocations was _most _enthralling, Netta." The blonde man… Enjolras? suddenly said; showing off a pearly white, alluringly striking grin as his arms slowly snaked their way around her waist. Lynette laughed merrily and leaned back on his chest; closing her eyes for but one blissful moment as she found herself wrapped in her suitor's secure embrace. I cast my eyes elsewhere; for I felt as if I were watching something wonderful but personal—like I was an outsider looking in. Her expression was so serene… would anyone ever hold _me _like that?

"I'm glad you think so. But I am sorry for shouting at you, Odela. I just—" Lynette started; but I cut her off. "Yes, yes; thought I was a whore trying to steal your man away from you. I understand." It wasn't the first time I'd gotten this. But it was the first time I'd heard it from my sister because I'd unknowingly flirted with her young lover. I saw Enjolras affectionately rubbing Lynette's arm out of the corner of my eye, and I could feel my face falling slightly as consequence. I don't know what it was about them… perhaps the way they were so natural with each other… the tenderness in both of their gazes… the way every bit of him seemed to move with and _for_ her. But I felt a twinge of jealousy; one very similar to the one I'd always gotten in times long ago. He was just so… so…

And it was in that moment—when I was attempting to put my finger on exactly was so wonderful about him—that he caught my eye. His smoldering brown gaze bore into mine; and I found—as much as I wanted to—I couldn't look away. It was like he was reading right into my soul… and I was like a moth; mesmerized in the soft glow of a lantern. And until he broke our locked stare; I found myself extremely disoriented.

Yes… unfortunately so. But nevertheless, I apologize." Lynette laughed suddenly; stepping forward and wrapping her arms around me once more. I found that I could just barely hug her back; so bewildered and saddened was I. Wait, saddened?

"It's alright, peu d'amour. You're more than forgiven." I whispered into her shoulder blade in an attempt to banish these sentiments. She embraced me for a few minutes more, then pulled away to grin at me with one of the most giddily excited expressions I'd ever seen her wear. It reminded me immensely of a flickering memory… a much younger Lynette lighting up like a firework when I'd told her she could play with one of my most favorite dolls with me. But things had changed since then. Now _I _was the one longing for something my sister had acquired.

"Anyway… Odela; allow me to introduce my fiancé, Enjolras. Enjolras—in case you haven't already comprehended the obvious—this is my older sister Odela." She said, gesturing back and forth between us two.

"A pleasure, Mademoiselle. It's very nice to finally make your acquaintance." Enjolras replied with a gentlemanly bow of his head. I hoped my blush wasn't _horribly _obvious; but I knew there was no preventing it. I don't know why I had been expecting any less refined treatment from this man with such a clean, curt look about him; but I suppose I've been_ taught_ to expect less. _Much _less. I reached out and took his outstretched hand in a firm shake; returning his polite smile with a bashful one of my own. His hands were strong, but had a certain tenderness to them. They say you can tell much about a man by the feel of his hands; and that was one thing I had confirmed in these two years "away from home". From his touch, I could tell that he was the sort of man who would be able to protect her in times of trouble; but that he also was as thoughtful and sympathetic as the day was long. And now he was transferring that kindness to _me. _The harlot-sister of his to-be.

I was not used to this. It was _so_ rare that men were this gentle. So, I looked over at Lynette in an attempt to mask my discomfort. "It's wonderful to meet you, as well. My, Netta; I'm gone for but two years, and the next time I see you you're engaged to be married? Since when are interested in anything but the folly of politics and the freedom of the people?"

"Since I met a man as infatuated with these ideas as I was." Lynette laughed—clear as a bell—before taking Enjolras's hand and looking up at him softly.

"Ah… is that how you met, then?" I asked with a small smile, glancing back and forth between them. But inside, I couldn't help the buzzing thoughts racing about my mind. A radical? Had she truly found a partner _that _similar to her? _That _perfect for her?

"Yes. I joined a... a cause that he was involved in, and after a while we somehow went from co-captains to intended's." She elaborated as her cheeks turned a lovely, embarrassed pink. Mon dieu, was there anything my sister _couldn't _do with the grace of a doe?

Enjolras chuckled and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to that freshly colored cheek; and once again I couldn't help looking away. This was like a stage romance… the princess and her prince. The story of how they found love… little scenes displaying their perfectness for each other…

I was happy for her—please don't think me completely heartless—I just couldn't help wishing that _my _dreams had come true as well. That something would happen to make _my _face stretch into a smile as bright as hers. If only just _once_.

"Somehow is right. It took quite a bit of pursuing on my part before I got her to agree to be mine." Enjolras's sudden statement broke my melancholy train of thought; looking down at Lynette adoringly.

_Pursuing. _He'd _pursued _her.

"Certainly sounds like my sister." I laughed at the palpable truth of the statement.

"Oh come on; I wasn't _that _difficult!" Lynette put on a playful pout as she turned to cross her arms at him. Enjolras laughed—a hearty, joyous sound—and wrapped his arms around her before whirling them both around once. Lynette shrieked with a thrilled giggle; and I began to consider all of the possible excuses I could make to leave abruptly… for I felt as if my presence were bothersome and unwelcome when they were finding such bliss, solely in each other.

"You are _always _difficult." Enjolras said with that same mischievous grin.

"I second that, Netta; you always have been one of the most headstrong women in Paris." I supplemented; cursing myself when I heard my voice shaking slightly. _Be happy for her. Be happy for her. Be—_

"Well, I cannot take all of the credit for that. Most of it was learned after years of dealing with Aunt—oh my God; Odela! You can come with us! Enjolras and I… we're going to see Mama and Henry! You can… you can come _home…_" Lynette suddenly burst out excitedly; reaching out and grabbing my hands again.

I felt the smile I'd managed to paste on my face fall completely, thinking grimly about what might result from such a visit. And none of the scenarios now playing out in my head were positive.

"I… I don't think that's such a good idea, Lynette." I answered, gnawing on my lip nervously. I felt my heart twinge when her smiled faltered slightly; but I vowed to stand my ground. It was better for them in the long run…

"What are you talking about? You can finally return and never have to… to sell yourself again. Isn't that what you want?" she asked me with her eyes wide and her brow furrowed.

_Yes. I want that more than anything. You have no notion of how much I want that. _I screamed in my head. But all that came out was, "No, I can't."

"Yes you can—"

"No, Lynette!" It's… it's been hard enough facing you. Letting you see me in this lowly, worthless state… this state where I am no better than the common harlot." I choked back a sob as I voiced the thing I'd been thinking since I'd seen who it was standing beside the golden-haired, marble-like man I'd tried to bed. I saw tears forming in her eyes and nearly snapped completely; for my little sister had _never _been one to cry without reason or at least a decent amount of provocation. And now her eyes of the living sea were glistening because of _me_. "Odela… don't _talk _like that! You are my older sister… the girl I looked up to my entire childhood… not to mention one of the most beautiful young women I know. You are _far _from worthless, and all of the aforementioned facts will never change!" she implored; staring burningly into my eyes.

_You are such a wonderful sister… such a big, passionate heart beats within you… you deserve so much better than me. _I thought achingly as I stared back at her. "But _I _have changed," I whispered, "I now harbor such bitterness and apathy towards the world inside of me… and feelings like that obliterate and empty you, Lynette. Destroy every last bit of you until there's not one hint of the person you once were left. It's gotten to the point where I hardly care about anything anymore."

And I hadn't dictated anything truer than this as of far. When you are constantly _treated _like you have no soul… like you've already died… it isn't long before you become exactly what they've made you. An unfeeling whore who doesn't really deserve to live and yet somehow finds the will to.

Lynette fell silent at my words; and in her agape expression, I saw hurt, fear, _anger…_

_I'm so sorry, ma soeur douce. But I'm doing this… hurting you… because of how much I love you. _

"Even us?" I perceived her uttering after a moment.

"No, of course not! You and Mama and Henry and Martaín… you mean everything to me! And that's _exactly _why I can't come home. I love you all too much to let you be disgraced by the presence of a girl leading such a sickeningly awful life." I told her; trying to silently beg her to try to see it my way with my gaze. But she either didn't see that desperate plead for her to just trust me, or didn't want to. Because she went on to cry, "Stop that! It wasn't your fault; you didn't choose the life that was thrown at you!"

I saw a small movement out of the corner of my eye; and recognized Enjolras massaging her arms in a solacing gesture—trying to soothe her quickly ascending tone. He was going to be such a wonderful husband; always minding her feelings and trying to help her in every way he possibly could.

_How lucky you are, peu d'amour… you've found one of the few decent men in the world. _

"Yes, it was. I _could_ have chosen to find other means of earning money… but instead I chose the easy way out. And I'm—I'm _so_ sorry…" I quavered as I stared at her devastated face; wiping my eyes on my grubby sleeve. But no sooner had I finished the dictation did she begin full-on sobbing—sputtering out her next appeal, "Odela… _please_ come home… come with us…"

It was like seeing my childhood flash before my eyes; this new, more vulnerable side of Lynette making me see the child she'd once been. My kid-sister. My playmate.

But those times were over now. And I figure that if I just keep telling myself that, I may actually start believing it.

"No." I forced out with much effort; turning away so I didn't have to see her horrified expression anymore. But she simply grabbed my arm and coerced me to look at her again. "Odela; you're breaking my heart!" she exclaimed; her voice breaking in the middle.

Breaking her heart…

_Breaking her heart… _

I was breaking my sister's heart. In my attempt to do what was best for her, I was breaking her heart. But… she had someone to fall back on. What right had she to claim heartbreak when she was about to be married to a man who loved her more than anything? When she had everything and I had _nothing_? I shook her off of me, backing up a few steps so that I was out of her reach. How could she say that _her _heart was breaking? When I'd just watched her acting giddily happy with her intended for several minutes straight? "What do _you _know of heartbreak?" I started in tones just over a whisper, "Lynette; you know not the _meaning _of that word. Do you know what it feels like to have your soulripped from your body by a complete stranger for a few measly sous _every single night_? Do you know what it's like to be picked up and treated like a ragdoll until they've decided that they're finished; then thrown aside like trash? And do you understand what it's like to be asked to face the dissatisfaction in your mother's eyes after going through all of that? _That _is heartbreak. And it is something you will never experience whilst you have your handsome, young, amiable fiancé and wonderful new life. As long as you have that, your heart will never be anything but happy and whole. _My _heart has been broken, Lynette. It has been shattered and crushed so many times that sometimes I doubt it's even beating anymore. And so _please _know, my sweet sister… how sorry I am… and that I love you _so _much… but I just… I _can't_."

And that was that. I turned my back completely on them so that they would not see my tears; unable to control my emotions a second longer. My own words were my downfall… hearing them aloud did nothing but remind me of how negligible I was.

Lynette was silent in shock; that much I could discern when I turned back around to lock eyes with Enjolras. "You are a good man and your love for her is unmistakable. _Please _take care of her. Do what I have not the strength to do." I asked him beseechingly. As if I really had to plead with him. He would watch over her 'til his heart stopped beating; I was sure of that.

"You have my sincerest word, Mademoiselle Odela. Your words have rung true; I would do anything for your sister. Thank you for trusting her safety to me." He responded seriously; moving his hands to rest protectively on Lynette's shoulders.

I laughed—I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't get over how pleasant he was; how polite and warm. Everything that a woman looks for in a man, he had not yet ceased to possess. I mean; here he was, talking to a prostitute, and yet he was addressing her formally?

""You are so courteous, Monsieur. Do you know how long it has been since a man has called me 'Mademoiselle'?" I voiced this notion to him.

"For a strong, intelligent young woman like yourself; I'm sure it has been far too long." He replied casually; smiling handsomely at me. I felt my face stretch into a silly grin—a heated blush coloring my cheeks—and I was surprised I hadn't yet swooned. Never in my life had I received such a compliment; and how sweet it sounded in his smooth, masculine tone. His heart was as big as his mind and as beautiful as his face; and my sister had that heart wrapped around her finger.

She would wake up every day to those warm eyes watching her adoringly.

She would close her eyes in bliss as he beguilingly whispered fables and compliments in her ear.

She would have a husband to kiss her and hold her and protect her and love her.

And what would I have? A sickly, overworked body and perhaps an unplanned pregnancy or two.

Why could I too not have an Enjolras?

"I can see why our Netta loves you, Monsieur Enjolras. You've got a good heart in you. And right now I need you to use that to take her away from here—away from me. I wish all of this could have happened in another time under different circumstances… but it didn't. And now it's time for me to go and leave you both to your contentment. And Lynette; let me just say before I go that _maybe_ I'll drop in every now and again… just so you all know I'm still alive… but other than that my fate has been sealed. I'm sorry." I finished; fibbing to both her and myself as I reached the last part of my declaration. And then before another word of protest could be uttered, I turned and began scurrying away. I didn't look back; I couldn't bear to feel the burning tears prickling to life in my eyes again. I wished my darling baby sister all of the happiness the world could offer her… but right now I just couldn't handle watching any more happiness dancing around me. Yes, around me. But never within me. No, not for me, never for me…

**A/N:**** A little insight to what Odela was thinking that entire time portrayed in my last chapter. Poor Odie… she is an ideal example of what les misérables are all about. **

**Any questions or comments? Opinions? Requests? Just shoot me a review. I'm always open to new ideas. :) ~DonJuana**


	6. Chapter 6

"Remind me again why we're here?" Lynette questioned with a borderline groan as they sauntered down the dim hall. They'd walked most of the rest of the way to the tenement in silence; only broken by the occasional comment exchanged back and forth about things like the weather or the latest news of the street. Odela was not mentioned again; and Enjolras felt that Lynette was attempting to block the whole encounter from her mind until a later time to ensure that she was fully alert should her aunt be in. And if she was that intent on focusing her attentions towards what still lay ahead, he was not about to remind her of that which had already passed.

"Because it is traditionally respectful for me to ask your family's blessing before we are married." Enjolras responded in a jaunty, matter-of-fact tone.

"Well remind me again why I agreed to this."

He chuckled softly at her sarcastic statement, but didn't bother answering. In truth; he couldn't remember why _either _of them had forced themselves into this; but he figured it was too late to back out now—and moreover his own fault for deciding so unyieldingly_ for_ it. So, he knew he could just have to deal with his growing anxiousness and stay strong for Lynette.

"Well, this is it." she sighed suddenly; stopping in front of one of the large wooden doors. He looked over to see her eyeing the doorknob with her brow furrowed; and he instantly reached over and took her hand in his— massaging it with his thumb. "You'll be fine. _We'll _be fine." he told her softly; unwilling to let her grow fretful before him whilst he stood by doing nothing for the _second _time today. She shot him an unenthusiastic smile in return; after which she was quick to turn her gaze back on the door. He sighed; swiftly rotating and pulling her into him before kissing her softly. He lingered there for a moment; hoping the amorous action sent a tacit message. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck—holding them both there in the tender moment for several minutes before reluctantly pulling away to say, "Alright, let's get this over with."

She knocked on the door, then stepped back with her knee bouncing nervously for a few moments as they stood together in anticipation. Enjolras's heart was hammering; for though he knew she held almost no emotional attachment to those who dwelled on the other side of this door, the thought of coming face to face with his Netta's family was nerve-wracking. Would they like him? Would they approve of their marriage? And why was he not apathetic towards all of this?

His heart rate only heightened to a buzzing drone when a brief shuffling was heard on the other side of the door; and he perceived Lynette taking a deep breath before squeezing his hand once and dropping it. Her expression was neutral and collected… but he was certain that he was not the only one extremely disconcerted at the present time.

Their eyes bored into the knob as it began to rotate ever so slowly; and then they practically jumped out of their skins when the door itself swung open sharply and abruptly.

Before them stood a middle-aged woman with hawkish eyes and grey-blonde hair pulled back into a tight, no-nonsense bun. She was a tiny thing—just barely reaching Enjolras's shoulders in height—but from the way her own shoulders jutted back in prim, stiff straightness; she came off as the type of person who thought themselves to be a hundred feet tall. Her eyebrows were knit together in a scowl; and the expression looked so deeply etched into her face that he doubted it ever truly left. Her lips too were pressed into an unforgiving frown; but as soon as those pugnacious eyes took them in, they parted to reveal a sneer so sharp, Enjolras wouldn't have been surprised to see that it was fanged. And as soon as it stretched to life, Enjolras knew that they were standing face to face with Aunt Virginie.

"Well; look who it is—coming running home at last." the woman scoffed; cocking her head like a vulture sizing up its next meal.

"We've come to see my mother, Virginie." Lynette retorted stiffly with only the slightest twinge of irritation reflecting on her face.

"We?" Virginie required, turning her cold stare upon Enjolras. Her trenchant grin widened as she looked him up and down; and then she snorted. "Who's this? The officer assigned to oversee your final plea? How long is the sentence? How much is the bail we _won't _be paying? As much as your father's?"

Enjolras felt his fists clench impulsively at the precise moment Lynette's jaw tensed; her oceanic eyes flashing dangerously as they locked with her aunt's. "You make a big mistake in bringing my father into this. He's _twice _the person you'll ever be; even after death. Leeches such as you should not even be permitted to say his name." she snapped heatedly.

Virginie's teeth clenched; and her beady, dark eyes narrowed to slits in her anger. "You despicable girl! You are so, utterly _worthless_; dead to this family! The very air you breathe should not be wasted on those profane lungs of yours!" she spat; throwing a finger in Lynette's face accusingly.

Enjolras snapped. He had never in his life heard such implausibly hateful words; and the fact that they were pointed at Lynette was too much for his mighty self-control. He didn't care that Lynette had assured him she was used to it; he was not about to stand here and let the love of his life be insulted and degraded this way. "How dare you talk to her that way!" he snarled; stepping forward towards the spiteful woman and pushing Lynette back slightly behind him. Virginie caught his eye and held it there; and it was apparent that both were suddenly in the process of trying to sear the other with their gaze. But after a moment, Virginie's face broke into a dark smile once more as she opened her vulgar mouth and said, "Ah… I see what's going on here! You're in love with her? Or… perhaps in _lust_?"

Enjolras growled in fury; every part of him tense and trembling in ire. It didn't take a philosopher to comprehend what she was implying; and he found that for the first and last time in his life, he felt a great desire to strike a woman. And if she said one more word—

"Come on, Enjolras; we needn't be subject to this. We came here for my mother; not this rat of a woman." Lynette hissed; taking his hand and shoving their way past her aunt. At this point Enjolras managed to tear his gaze away from Virginie long enough to see that someone else was entering the room through one of the bedroom doors—a young man with hair the color of sand. Hair—he noted—that mirrored Odela's exactly. He was tall and lean—most certainly one of those boys who sprouted up like a beanstalk but could never grow more than a little robust to even it out—and his eyes were strikingly identical to Lynette's.

"Lynette!" he cried out when he saw her; those very eyes lighting up like the sun hitting the water on a summer day as he stepped forward and embraced her.

"Hello, Ree. I've missed you." Lynette replied; a smile breaking through her stone guise as she rested her head on his chest for a moment. Henry opened his mouth to continue the jovial greeting; but he was instantly cut off by Virginie's piercing voice. "I mean, really Lynette! I always knew you weren't right in the head; but such a little slut? A whore like your sister? That _is_ a surprise." she said with a laugh so caustically callous that it could have put the entire room under a foot of snow.

Enjolras swore he felt something inside of him explode; and he was so close to barreling forward and strangling the woman—could she even be _called _that—that on a normal day, it would have frightened him. But this was not a normal day; and therefore the normal Enjolras was not present.

And yet the words he'd been about to hurl at this malicious woman were stolen right from his mouth (but were stated _much _more gracious and eloquently) by Henry, "You really have the valor to call _my _sisters sluts? Under _my _roof? One more word, Virginie; and you will no longer be allowed to find comfort beneath it." the young man threatened; a storm of wrath overtaking his eyes of the living sea.

"Oh, shut up boy! Stop speaking as if you own the ground we stand upon!" Virginie snapped at him.

"Well he's the one paying all the bills while you sit back on your lazy ass and take advantage of my mother's hospitality!" Lynette yelled; tightening her hold on her younger brother protectively. At the sound of her exclamation, Virginie's eyes flickered back over to her; and she proceeded to pick up right where she'd left off as if reminded of her mockeries by the sight of her niece. "So; _that's _where you've been living all this time? _Unmarried_? With not even a _ring _on your finger? Well then what else could your handsome young lover here _be_ if not just a rich, lonely boy looking for some lively nights?" she asked with a timbre of mock innocence. Enjolras and Henry both began to lunge forward simultaneously in their shared, summiting fury; but they were stopped in their tracks by Lynette's next rejoinder, "You wretched woman! Who are you to make such accusations without _any _solid underpinnings? I'll have you know that this handsome young man _is_ my fiancé; not to mention an activist student with ideals such as mine. And _that _is what makes us such an inarguable match!" she shouted; voice rising higher with each passing second. Virginie made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat; her condemning eyes darting back and forth between Enjolras and Lynette. Enjolras walked over to where Henry and Lynette stood defensively—tense as a man with a fiery torch, attempting to ward off a pack of wolves. And from the murderous look on her face in the present moment; he knew that the wolves would look like mere _infants_ were they placed next to her.

"This republic treachery again? And now you've found a new way to rebel against our proud country—_marrying _one of these filthy radicals?"

"_You _are the filth here!" Lynette and Enjolras shouted in perfect, unprecedented unison. At any other time, this occurrence may have made them laugh. But now it hardly registered with either of them. "You are _so wrong_, Virginie. You accuse me of betraying my country when I'm simply trying to free it! Those who cannot comprehend that fact are intolerable and blind!" Lynette continued in ardent, livid vigor; and Enjolras could suddenly not help thinking to himself how beautiful she was… how _inciting _her words and _sensible_ her arguments—

"Speak no more of your blasphemous ideas, girl; I wish to be plagued by their evil sound no longer. I _already_ cannot believe all I've heard! Engaged to a rebel! Living with him like a common harlot! Another Beauchene child turning out no better than a gutter rat! I find it absolutely, appallingly implausible; I cannot even _begin _to imagine what you must be feeling, Elodie." Virginie sniffed; turning to the kitchen doorframe and addressing the figure who had silently appeared there at some point during the argument.

She had long, limp, dark brown hair frayed with a few prematurely grey strands and nearly white skin—pale and taut by years of stress and arduous work. Her eyes were the same dusky brown as her sister's—though hers took on the air of black, empty, impassive pits instead of the eyes of the devil himself. Her shoulders hung forward with the stature of a defeated soldier; and Enjolras could tell just by looking at her that she had once been one of the most beautiful women in Paris. But that had obviously been in a time long ago; for now she just looked _tired_. Detached. There was truly no other way to describe her.

And yet despite her timid demeanor; all the color left Lynette's face when she saw her as if she'd just seen Cesar's mighty army marching toward her. "M—Mama?" she whispered; her eyes wide as they caught the other woman's.

"Lynette?" Elodie Beauchene murmured quietly; her soft, delicate voice breaking in the middle of the assertion.

"Ashamed… disappointed… irate… repulsed…" Virginie continued on; walking over to stand directly next to her sister and hissing into her ear like the voice of Satan to Eve.

"Mama, please…" Lynette besought; and Enjolras was surprised by the immediate desperateness in her tone. He hadn't expected her to so readily expose herself with that kind of reaction.

"I understand that. I would be too! What with a convict, prostitute, and scandalous rebel within a few years of each other… it's heartbreaking, really." Virginie faked an overdramatic sigh. Enjolras clenched his fists and saw that Henry had done the same out of the corner of his eye. Could this be why Madame Beauchene never spoke up against her sister? Because Virginie feigned innocence?

"Elodie? Wouldn't you agree? Am I alone in my horror?" the witch inquired softly; eyes shining in triumph as she watched Lynette's face fall.

"Mama—" Henry began sharply in an apparent attempt to snap his mother out of her shocked trance; but he was instantly cut off by his very annoyed aunt. "You be quiet. Every time you speak—"

"No! My family is my world, and I am _not_ going to stand here and let their proud names be debased in this way!" he growled; glaring scathingly.

"_Proud_ names? The only thing 'proud' about your siblings is their arrogance! That is something all of you kids share… something you inherited from your father—"

"My father was one of the most modest men in all of France!" Henry roared; stepping forward and towering over the tiny, malevolent woman.

"Must you lie to yourself? You and I both know that is not true in the least. The noose that encircled his neck in the end was visual proof of that." Virginie jeered. At this point—before Henry could push their aunt out one of the bedroom windows—Lynette turned to her mother with one of the most enraged, hurt, and distrusting expressions ever witnessed by any in the room and hoarsely said, "How… _how _can you just sit here and listen to this? This… this verbal maltreatment towards your children… your _husband_? How can you watch in _silence_ while your family is attacked in this ruthless way?"

"Lynette, please—" Elodie whispered quietly; and Enjolras caught a hint of pleading in her eyes. He had watched this whole scene play out and grown more and more angry with each comment exchanged; though nothing incited him more than Madame Beauchene's _muteness. _And though this slight of beseechment made him stop and think twice about his resentment towards this woman who was _supposed _to be Lynette's mother, Lynette herself hadn't seemed to have noticed it. "She insults each and every one of us before your eyes; and yet you do _nothing_? Even _defend _her, on occasion?"

"Netta…" her mother mumbled; voice quavering like a child on the verge of tears.

"No! Unless you are _finally_ going to say something about your sister's abhorrent habits, I don't want to hear it!" Lynette seethed.

"Lynette—" Henry started warningly; brow furrowing in concern as he saw their mother's eyes glittering. But Lynette didn't stop… she had been pushed too far over the edge. And Enjolras knew from experience that there was absolutely no chance of bringing her back once that had happened. "Enjolras and I came here to ask for your _blessing_… and upon deciding to come, I'd thought, '_Perhaps things will be better this time. Perhaps she will be happy for me.' _But I was so foolish. I should have known that returning has only reminded me of why I left in the first place."

"You venal, ungrateful little bitch!" Virginie screeched; putting her arm around Elodie's shoulders. But it looked more like an eagle tightening its talons around its prey than a shielding gesture from sister to sister.

"That's enough, Virginie! You've done enough damage as it is!" Henry barked; exasperation sneaking into his tone. Virginie snorted, rolling her eyes. "You _are _just like your father. Mayhap you'll just follow in his footsteps and save us the trouble of having to listen to your constant racket."

Lynette's face only darkened further when she heard this; but her eyes had not once left her mother. "Still nothing? Not one word of protest?"

She was met with nothing but a silent, agape, tearful look; and after waiting but a moment she snapped around and grabbed Enjolras's hand. "Come on, Enjolras. This was a mistake." she hissed as she pulled him towards the door. He followed her without a word; but in truth he was feeling rather conflicted. Madame Beauchene had been trying to say something… he supposed whether or not it was what Lynette wanted to hear was the real question.

It was silent as death as they marched out of the flat; and only after the door had slammed behind them did they hear muffled, indignant voices begin to debate again. But instead of going back so that they could hear more clearly what was being said, they walked further and further away until complete silence enveloped them once more.

They stepped out onto the street; and had not been out of the building for more than a few seconds before Lynette sucked in a shuddering gasp. He instinctively reached over and wrapped his arms securely around her; pulling her towards him to rest on his chest. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." he whispered.

"Let's just go… forget any of this ever happened." she muttered in reply; subconsciously tracing the neckline of his waistcoat. His heart rate sped up; and he suddenly had a very strong urge to kiss her—but he knew his top priority had to be getting her away from here. So, he nodded somberly and proceeded to let her begin pulling him away. But they'd hardly made it three steps when a voice cried out, "Wait, Netta!"

**A/N:**** This and the next chapter were originally supposed to be all one, but it turned out so long that I had to split it into two to spare me my sanity. XD So sorry if this turned into a bit of a cliffy, but it was the only place I could think to cut it off and have it still make sense. **

**Well there you go, that's the Beauchene's for you. Wasn't Virginie just…. No, I can't even go sarcastic here. A complete bitch? Yep… Poor Netta… **

**R I would love to know what you think of the new characters here. Was Virginie too mean? Not mean enough? How about Henry or Mme. Beauchene? ~DonJuana**


	7. Chapter 7

They turned to see Henry sticking his head out of a tenement window, waving his hands about madly to get their attention. Lynette smiled and wiped away the burning tears that had begun to form in her eyes—she'd forgotten how Henry was the only one who could _always _make her smile; even when she was in the worst of moods. "Wait; are you in my room? Get out of there, mioche!" she shouted up to him playfully, putting her hands on her hips in feigned chastisement.

"Well _sorry_, your room's the only one with a window that opens all the way, and I wanted to formally introduce myself to your fiancé here!" Henry bolstered.

"Ah. Well how very thoughtful of you, Ree! My frère petite is all grown up!" Lynette laughed merrily.

"Are you suggesting I was not thoughtful before, soeur?" Henry wondered impishly.

"Not in the least! Just that your maturity has climaxed since I last visited, and you tried to convince me that Mama had just told you that Inspecteur Javert was our long-lost uncle," she challenged; eyes glinting like beautiful yet rather contradictory oceanic flames.

"Ah yes! And you were this close to believing me, too!" Henry rejoined, holding out his hand with his pointer and thumb nearly touching.

Lynette snorted. "Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"No, I didn't believe it for a second!"

"Tell that to the way your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates once I'd elaborated."

Enjolras boomed with laughter, unable to contain his amusement any longer as he watched their childish banter. Henry's eyes darted over to him as if just realizing he was there, and Enjolras couldn't help feeling a strange sense of déjà vu from when he had been introduced to Odela earlier.

"Well _anyways_; allow me to introduce myself, good Monsieur. My name is Henry Fernand Beauchene, and I am Lynette's younger and _much _more charming brother," Henry winked, straightening slightly in the sill to preform a sort of regal bow.

"Oh yes; young, charming, twice as stubborn, and not nearly as clever," Lynette added teasingly.

"Much obliged, Netta," Henry said, rolling his eyes.

"Any time, brother," Lynette laughed.

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Henry. My name is Enjolras," Enjolras cut in, returning Henry's mock bow with a just-as-refined nod of his head.

"Why don't you just come down and do this in person, Ree?" Lynette inquired curiously.

Henry sighed, the cheerful, lopsided smile disappearing from his face. "Mama and Virginie are fighting right in front of the door. I'd ask to go past, but this is… well, this is the first time Mama's ever _fought _with Virginie."

"Ha! Probably not much of a fight," Lynette laughed sharply; expression acidic once more.

"No… she's defending us. Defending _you_, Lynette. You should hear it," Henry told her slowly, turning away for a moment as he listened to the inaudible battle that must have been raging on inside.

"I'd prefer not to. I don't want to hear her fall into submission like she always does," she spat angrily.

"Come on, Netta; she's trying! For once in her life, she's trying! At least appreciate _that _if nothing else," Henry beseeched.

"After _years _of cowering in the shadow of her sister? Forgive me, Henry, but I find it hard to appreciate this when we have gone so long unfortified erstwhile," Lynette glowered, getting that look in her eyes that Enjolras had quickly learned to tacitly say, '_This conversation is _over_.' _

And apparently Henry knew the look just as well as he did. Because after a moment of silent hesitation, he turned his gaze on Enjolras and said, "So, Enjolras; you're planning on marrying my sister?"

"Indeed I am," Enjolras replied deferentially. He looked up at Henry's sprightly but assessing expression, and his mood brightened to some extent. For perhaps if he could not get the blessing of her parents, the reigning man of the house was the next best thing.

"And you are in love with her?" Henry continued pressingly, raising an eyebrow at him.

Enjolras smiled diffidently, looping his arm around Lynette's waist once more and pulling her to his side. "Very much so, Monsieur," he answered tenderly, catching Lynette's eye as she looked up at him and shot him a smile.

"And you promise to take care of her? Shelter her, protect her, support her, and adore her?" Henry rattled off questioningly as if he'd rehearsed it.

"Every day for the rest of my life," Enjolras answered, face growing slightly more stony. Lynette caught the slight change and gave him the tiniest semblance of a nod, for both of them knew how close he'd come to death and were both more than grateful for his successive survival.

"Jesus; you'd think you two were already standing at the altar!" Henry laughed, winking down at them.

"Yes; your rejoins were rather vow-like, Blondinette," Lynette giggled.

"Well, _I _unfortunately am not a priest, have but two years of higher education in law, and under no circumstances am qualified to preform the ceremony myself; so you're just going to have to wait until your wedding day," Henry sighed in fabricated disappointment.

"Oh well, I imagine we'll manage to survive until then," Lynette laughed. Then she turned and took one long look at Enjolras before inclining back towards Henry with an impish look in her eyes. "So has he passed your tests, Ree? Hath he been deemed worthy of my hand?" she inquired.

"Hm… I believe he has. I like this one, Netta! But then again, I have not a basis of comparison when you've never brought any other eligible gentlemen home," Henry stated flippantly.

"That's because I've never had any _reason_ to until I met him," she said matter-of-factly before looking back at Enjolras with a beam. "Congratulations, cher! You've found favor in my brother's stern, merciless eyes!"

"I am relieved. Being thought highly of by someone so close to you is a great honor on my part," he responded truthfully, nodding once more up at Henry in an act of reverence.

The younger man puffed up like a peacock, though he hid his discernible pride with more satire. "You hear that, soeur? I have _honored _your fiancé with my good favor," he smirked at her. Lynette rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes; it seems you have finally made a friend as a result of your mutual esteem for each other. It's about time, Ree, social interaction is _so _imperative to overall health."

"Says you, Mademoiselle locks-herself-in-her-room-to-spend-hours-writing-speeches!" Henry retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child. Lynette mimicked the gesture, but she was laughing too hard to hold the mien for long. Henry laughed with her, having nearly forgotten how contagious hers was. Ever since she'd been small as an elf, her laugh had boomed with the power of thunder but the gentler sound of a tittering bird.

God; he'd missed her.

And yet now she was about to dance out of his life once more. Would it be forever this time? _'No, _he told himself fiercely, '_she loves me and we have an extremely resilient bond. She will never leave me for good.' _

"So when's the big day?" he asked them after he'd finally managed to calm down and suppress his chuckles. Lynette looked up at Enjolras teasingly. "I was wondering the same thing."

"As soon as you see fit. I just wanted to try to get… well, you know," Enjolras began before fading a little by the end. Lynette smiled sadly and leaned over to rest her head against his shoulder. "We tried. That is respectful in itself."

He sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist, but their moment of melancholy was abruptly interrupted by a faint screech of wrath. They snapped up to look at Henry; who had momentarily disappeared from view to more closely listen to what had just taken place. But then he popped back out only to say, "Uh-oh, looks like things are starting to get pretty malicious. I better go and make sure no blood hath been shed," he winked at them.

"Alright, probably best the police don't have to get involved," Lynette agreed, rolling her eyes. Henry laughed. "True, very true. Well, it was wonderful to see you again, sister. And to meet you, Enjolras. I hope—"

He was cut off by a lurid crash, and his head instinctively shot towards the source of the sound. "Jesus! Time to step in. Love you, Netta! Send me an invitation!" he exclaimed rushedly before slamming the shutter closed and dashing away.

They watched him go silently for a moment, then Lynette turned to Enjolras with a mask of extremely mixed feelings. Too many to name… and yet somehow it spoke them all in fervent, tacit expression. But the mien was abruptly pierced by her satirically amused laugh, all sentiments but sarcasm crumbling away. "Well, there's my family for you."

**A/N****: We're not done just yet, children. The fluff chapter I promised has yet to come. ;) **

**Anyone's viewpoints on Henry changed since the last DS/E? He really is a sweetie… just loyal as a golden retriever. **

**R&R, mon amis! Hear that little review box beckoning you… it's calling you name… in a Ramin voice… ~DonJuana**


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm so sorry… you were right. I shouldn't have made you do that," Enjolras sighed, looking up from his now nearly completed thesis.

"That's the sixth time you've apologized since we got home," Lynette chuckled from the large armchair she'd settled in by the fire.

"I know. I just…" he trailed off, biting his lip. She smiled sympathetically, getting up and walking over to where he sat at his desk before massaging his shoulders. "I know. And I appreciate the fact that you wanted to try. But it's over now, what can be done about that? I'm fine and I still want to marry you. That's all that really matters," she assuaged.

"But you're _not _fine. Those things she said…" he clenched his teeth at the mere thought of them. She shrugged with a half smile. "She's said worse. And they always say what doesn't end thy life fortifies thy strength."

"Worse? How could it get worse from the things she stooped to today?" Enjolras inquired with a low growl of rage and disbelief.

"I don't remember exactly what they were; they all blur together in my mind. But I do remember the wounds they made, and I can tell you in complete and whole honesty that the things she said today were not even close to the worst," she said casually, as if she were speaking of the state of the economy or the weather instead of painful memories of the past. The statement was meant to be an assurance; and yet it left him feeling nothing but_ more_ guilty. For she'd tried to tell him that this visit would do nothing but remind her of what her aunt had put her through in the past, and he'd ignored her. Put his own selfish desires before her.

And though he wished otherwise, he knew he could not go back in time and change that. But he _could _help her forget.

With this notion in mind, he slowly got up from the desk and turned to face her, reaching his hands around to the small of her back and pulling her up against him. "What if," he began softly, "every kiss could heal one of those wounds?"

She snorted quietly, trailing her hands up his chest before slithering them around his neck. "As wonderful as your attentions are, they cannot erase what has already happened."

"But let us just say that they could," he whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers.

"Oh, resorting to childish fantasies, are we?" she giggled teasingly. He chuckled, then closed the space between them and pressed his lips to hers. She responded readily, rising up on her toes so that he could more easily devour her mouth in a thousand tender kisses. And he just as eagerly responded, soon moving down to shyly graze his lips along her neck. She emitted a tiny gasp, and he smiled at the sound, murmuring, "My kisses cannot erase that which has passed, hm?"

"I must admit… they do put me in a bit of a haze," she replied breathlessly. His heart accelerated consequently to her desire-laden statement, but he simply pressed one last kiss to her lips before pulling away while he still _could_. For he had quite the durable self-control… but she tested it immensely sometimes.

It appeared she was as aware of this as he was, because she complied immediately and said, "I'm going to go to bed. Join me?"

"No, I'm going to finish this thing off once and for all. You go on ahead. You look exhausted," he responded, running his thumb over the bags beneath her eyes as she once had to him.

"Well, I didn't sleep very well last night. But you look just as fatigued!" she argued.

"Yes, but I am determined to push through that weariness on the spur of none but my cause," he explained rationally.

"In other words, there's no convincing you to just put it down for the night?" she asked jestingly.

"No chance whatsoever."

"Well then," she murmuring with a smile, catching the hand that was so tenderly stroking her face and pressing a kiss to his palm, "Good night."

"Good night, love," he answered, kissing her forehead softly. She smiled blushingly at his sobriquet, then turned on her heel and walked towards the bedroom. He watched her go until her dancing out of his line of vision snapped him out of his trance and allowed him to turn back to his composition. He picked it up and reread the introductory paragraph for what felt like the three hundredth time; finally having edited it to his satisfaction. And now, for the rest of the paper. He hoped to God that Lynette would not wait for him, because it was going to be a long night.

'_Recent events in Greece have caused a large amount of unrest amongst the French peoples; talk of revolution and revolt and destruction and death. But have you looked at the other side of this? The positive side? The fact that Greece brings tidings of independence, freedom, and change?' _

He'd written this several years ago, so he should have to change the word "recently" to something more suited of an occurrence now more than a few years old.

'_The group Filiki Eteria wants nothing but the liberation of Greece's fine peoples; is this fact not clear in the vivacity of their actions? Men like Theodoros Kolokotronis saw the oppression that their race was suffering under the Ottoman Empire and decided to fight back. Good people of France; is this not the very actions _we_ should be taking?' _

It was now evident to him why this piece had never made it into any of his professors, for it was what they could consider to be extremely biased and prejudiced. Even if it was nothing but the rawest of truths; they could have expelled him from the university for turning in something like this. He sighed. It had been a while since he had caught himself thinking about the terrible objectiveness of his former center of learning. It was quite a funny thing, really; they'd called themselves speakers of fact and verity—but what is fact? Every man's fact is different than the last's. Fact was truly nothing more than preconception in disguise. His instructors had simply possessed the power to call _their _truths fact and label his as nothing but radical fantasies. '_Perhaps it is better they think me dead now,' _he thought in sudden satire.

He looked down and realized that he'd begun writing some of his ramblings on truths and realisms on the paper, and as he read them over, he abruptly became enthralled with the idea of _this _becoming the topic of a new oration… perhaps one he could take out and share with the Parisian citizens…

One that could start a _new _fire for sovereignty.

And then—in a strong wave of rumination—he could see how it all began the first time.

It had been a day just like this one; he'd been putting the finishing touches on an especially pleasing assignment (for this one had _encouraged _opinion for what he was sure was the first time in the university's history). But after reading it over one last time, he'd begun wondering how he could believe the things he'd written if he'd never acted on them before. For he'd always wanted to since he was old enough to _have _an opinion outside that of his parents, but he'd never known quite how.

His thesis had been on a recent law passed by Louis-Philippe.

And as he readied for the day, that one notion haunted him. He hadn't been able to rid himself of it. And finally, after much internal debate, he decided to do what he'd never done before and go out to sermonize the extremist views that had been brewing in his head for years now.

He was nineteen when it all began.

He'd skipped class that day, jumping at every sound in fear of being caught lollygagging. He'd scoured the streets for a busy enough intersection, then stood up with shaking legs and began voicing his beliefs. And as soon as he'd started talking, something inside of him burst, allowing him to speak with all of the passion and vigor that had remained caged up inside him for years. Dozens upon dozens of people stopped to listen, and as soon as he saw their wide-eyes and nodding heads he'd felt like he'd never be afraid of anything ever again.

He'd managed to speak for about half an hour with no sign of the police, and received a lurid round of applause once he had culminated. But as the people scattered, his newfound adrenaline died down. And that's when he realized that just speaking to the people would never be enough… he was going to have to lead them to something bigger.

It was then that he noticed a few men hanging back from the fast disappearing crowd; a bald, older man with a twinkle in his eye that reminded Enjolras of his friend Joly, a handsome young man who was currently taking a moment to eye a passing bourgeois girl, and a man with long, work-worn fingers that twitched in what Enjolras assumed was a nervous habit. They'd each come up and introduced themselves; telling him how hypnotizing his words were, and how great his cause. They'd said that if he ever began a group for intellectual debating or something else of the sort, they would be the first to stand beside him. And the young, flirtacious one had a friend, he said! A friend who he was sure would be just as supportive!

And it hadn't taken long at all after he'd began speaking with them for him to formulate what it was he wanted to do to put his ideas into action. And such had been the birth of Les Amis de l'ABC.

And now, almost seven years later, all but he and the friend Courfeyrac had told him of that first day were dead… and he was thinking of starting it all over again. Why should he believe that the results would be any different this time? Why should he get his hopes—

_Knockknockknock. _

He nearly jumped at the low thuds that pierced through the silence he'd been sitting in for so long. For not only had he been deep in thought and essentially unaware of anything else around him—but who came calling this late at night?

He got up and walked over to the door in confusion, still in a slight haze from the mixture of exhaustion and obscurity plaguing him body. And that bewilderment only augmented when he opened the door and saw Madame Beauchene standing there.

**A/N:**** Sorry for the cliffy, folks; I gotta stretch this one out as long as possible while I work on the next one. **

**Hurray! Fluffies! We've been waiting a while for you to show up… XD**

**How'd you all like the 'origins of l'ABC' part here? Does it work? I swear I tried. Please don't throw fruit at me if it's no good. R&R to let me know? :) ~DonJuana**


	9. Chapter 9

She wore a worn, navy blue cloak that she clutched to her frail body like a rock in a storm, and her pale cheeks were bright red from the bite of autumn's chill—obviously having spent quite some time wandering about in it. Her feet were shuffling nervously, and her dark eyes darted back ad forth for a few moments before settling upon him. "Good evening, Monsieur," she said softly.

He simply stared at her for a moment, his first thought being one of how in the _world_ she'd found them. They hadn't informed her or _anyone _in the Beauchene house of their current address, and it seemed nearly impossible that she be standing here right now. But that notion soon gave way to another once he returned more to his senses. '_Why should she be turning up here after her behavior—or lack there of—today?' _

"I know you may not be particularly pleased to see me after what you witnessed today, but I ask that you please hearken what I am about to say, if nothing else," she implored as if directly reading his thoughts. He stared at her for a moment, then crossed his arms and gave a curt nod—a silent directive to proceed. She breathed a sigh of relief, then continued, "I just came to tell you that you have my full blessing in marrying my daughter. I haven't seen her eyes light up so exultantly in a long time," before chancing a wary smile. Enjolras fought to retain his neutral, stern guise as he pondered her words. _'Perhaps that's because she is constantly subject to verbal abuse when she is at home!' _he longed to shout, releasing all of the anger that had pent up inside of him from the day's events. But instead, he simply answered, "Thank you, Madame Beauchene. I'm sure she will be placated with this news."

"Oh no; please don't tell her I visited. I came with the hope that she'd already have gone to bed," she burst out suddenly, pleading him silently with the sad look on her ever-whitewashed face. He furrowed his brow, this sudden surge of beseechment perplexing him immensely. "Why?" he asked her quizzically.

"Well, if she'd been the one to open this door, do you think I would still be standing here right now?" Madame Beauchene responded with another timid smile.

Enjolras's thoughtful frown deepened. "And why did you expect me to treat the situation any differently?"

The older woman grinned again, and even let forth a weak chuckle. "Would you have come to me in the first place if you _didn't _care about my approval?"

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort, but she quickly cut him off—smile disappearing as she shook her head. "Forgive me, I should have used better word choice. My point is that you went out of your way to show respect to me as her mother, and now I am giving that same respect back to you. You have my full support in wedding her."

"Forgive me, Madame, but why then did you not give this consent upon our arrival earlier today? It would have… saved you the trouble of a trip out into the cold," he pressed in an attempt to speak his mind without being outwardly rude.

Elodie Beauchene sighed, glancing down for but a moment before boldly catching his eye. "Do not believe I don't recognize your indirect inquiry, Monsieur Enjolras. I simply thank you for your courtesy in asking it. The only thing I can say to that is that I _do _love her. My children mean the world to me. And while you may have a hard time believing that, I ask that you do not doubt its truth," she stated austerely. Enjolras took that moment to look into her eyes to weigh whether he could believe her or not, and he was stunned by the fierce, blazing adoration burning there as she spoke of Lynette and her siblings. It had taken but one second for them to turn from black pits filled to the brim with fear and uncertainty to blistering coals of love and support. And as soon as he comprehended this, he knew he'd never again be able to doubt that l'Madame _did _love them; if only in her own way.

"I understand. A mother's love is unique to any other," he stated with a discomfited blush after a moment, unable to formulate any other response. Madame Beauchene looked at him with a soft smile. "You _are _perfect for her," she elucidated, "you too turn to proverbs and quotations when conversation is lacking. I have known no one else who has done such besides she."

Enjolras couldn't help himself; he laughed. "Nor have I. My friends used to poke fun at me for it; but now who's the one with a fiancé?"

'_Obviously you, you bastard! The others will never again court a lady from where they are!' _he couldn't help scolding internally, cursing himself for not better watching his tongue. Was this not a disrespect of the dead? And to this woman he hardly knew or was fond of?

"Not to mention your memorization of these sayings shows your capacity for higher learning," Madame Beauchene pointed out.

"Indeed. Though I must admit, Lynette is much more adept than I at the 'commitment to memory' stand point. Sometimes I wonder where she stores all of the little details," he chuckled tenderly, reminiscing over his fiancé's knack for remembering the quote or saying, its author, and where it was she'd found it—sometimes in as short a time as an instant.

"She has never ceased to amaze me with her intellectual skill set. She began reading at such a young age—and then speaking her mind soon after these facts really sank in—but I never would have thought back then that it would grow into such…" she stopped abruptly, looking up at him with a blush. "Forgive me, I must be going."

"Have you not even the time to finish your statement?" Enjolras asked, wanting to hear the conclusion of what appeared to be a complimentary dictation.

The timid parental was quiet for a moment; feet turned towards the door as if ready to bolt as quickly as a young buck. But then, in a low voice, she muttered, "Admirable wisdom and passion. It is inspiring just to watch her… even if one does not agree with every notion she brings forth."

"Then why do you not tell her this?" he whispered sadly. She cast her eyes downward, refusing to look back up until she had turned away from him completely. "Take care of her, Enjolras. For even the most spirited and resilient of leaders needs someone strong in their life to fall back on." And he had not even the chance to answer before she disappeared down the hall.

He closed the door behind him in a sort of haze, going over each part of their conversation in his head. He was vexed at the fact that she _still_ did not defend her actions, even when Virginie was nowhere to be had. But he also could not ignore the fact that the love resonating from the little woman had been of nothing but the truest form. What was he to make of this? Good God; he was getting a _migraine. _

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, turning and walking towards the bedroom. Forget the conclusive paragraph of his paper, he just wanted to go to sleep with the comfort that he'd accomplished what he'd wanted to today and promptly forget the entire incident even happened. He had the blessing of Lynette's family; that was all that mattered. He could marry her with an alleviated conscience.

'_Marry her…' _he shuddered in delight as he pulled off his shirt and turned the knob. Each time the notion came to mind, he could not help reacting in such a way. For she was his new dream… the reverie that had risen up like a phoenix out of the ashes of his failed rebellion… and their wedding day would seal their bond forever. It was his one desire that was actually and completely_ plausible_ in this day and time, and he'd be damned if he let it slip away like he essentially had the first.

He entered the room on tip-toe like a child, peeking his head in first to see Lynette passed out cold on the bed. He was honestly quite surprised; it usually took her quite some time to fall asleep, and tonight it appeared she'd been in this unconscious state for a while. She was curled up on top of all the bed coverings in a rather childish position with her knees pulled up nearly to her chest and her hands resting beneath her head. She looked so vulnerably innocent… so contrary to what she was in her waking hours. And she looked so stunninglynaïve…

He was suddenly overcome with the vision of a tiny child… one with both of them in their cherubic little face… their tiny eyelids fluttering with the joys of a nighttime fantasy. '_Will we… will we have children?' _he couldn't help thinking as images of this child—which soon multiplied to two and then _three _little Lynette's and Enjolras's—danced through his head. It _was _what married couples often found themselves occupied with…

Lynette suddenly stirred in her sleep, extending her neck to one side in a sluggish stretch before rolling over. "Enjolras…" she mumbled nearly inaudibly. He instantly strode over to her side—answering her slumbering call—and reached down to gently stroke her cheek before sweeping her up into his arms so that he may move them both beneath the blankets. She didn't wake, to his relief, but she did instinctively nestle up closer to him as he laid them both back down.

He sat there with her in his arms for what felt to him like decades, wanting sleep to overtake him but not being able to halt the thoughts buzzing through his mind. Thoughts of marriage… family… _children_…

'_Stop!' _he told himself sternly after a while of this merciless cycle, '_There will be other times to consider all of this. Other times to attempt to interpret Madame Beauchene's words and reactions tonight. But right now, all that I should be worried about is here in my embrace; and therefore I have nothing else to remain awake for.' _

And with that he forced his eyes shut, craning his neck down to rest lightly on the top of her head—a gesture that never failed to lull him. But it had not been two minutes of his being settled before his eyes snapped open again, a sudden thought searing through his mind and nearly stopping his heart. Something he'd pushed to the backmost part of his until this moment; something he now felt obligated towards after what today's visit had burdened Lynette with.

'_Mon dieu… what about _my _parents?' _

**A/N: ****And if that's not a lead in to a sequel, I don't know what is. ;)**

**Hope y'all liked this one… DS/E 3 should be out soon. And we all know what Deleted Scene Three means… **

**No? Just me? Oh. *awkward silence* Well, it's um, Introducing the Enjolras Sr's. In case you were wondering. And stuff. **

**R&R, let me know how you liked the ending! ~DonJuana Triumphante**


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